Bad Influence
by WindyCanyon
Summary: That idiot just had to get sick and leave Lovino to find himself a ride home. Fortunately, there's a certain student president that takes his job far too seriously. Lovino just has to be careful he doesn't get his little operation discovered by the most law-abiding bastard in his school.
1. Chapter 1

He collapsed onto a bench and flopped on his back. His entire body was tired and he didn't want to move. Lovino waited for Antonio to come bouncing out of the school; he even watched the doors for him, but he didn't hear that annoying voice grate on his ears. It occurred to him, after a while of waiting, that Antonio was out sick and wouldn't be able to give him a ride home. With much effort and cursing, Lovino reached into the bag beside the bench and pulled out his phone.

"_Drag me home, you bastard._"

"_I'm in news club. Sorry, fratello. We're review cafes around the city. Ah! I can't talk. Ludwig will get mad._"

He groaned, cursing his brother and his stupid club in one long breath. Lovino was too exhausted to get up and walk home. His house was only a few miles away and it wouldn't take too long to get there, but he was tired; and although the weather was nice, as soon as he started moving, the sun would bear down on him and make his uniform stifling. So he laid there, watching the sky through half closed eyes. It was almost peaceful to watch the clouds pass, and it soon made him sleepy. With such pleasant fall weather, he dozed in and out of wakefulness.

"Oi!" shouted a voice sharply.

"What?" he shouted back equally as sharp, annoyed to be disturbed.

The voice paused at this and changed tone to one with stiff authority. "You realize the school is closing."

"Yeah." Lovino didn't care much for that tone, and his voice showed it.

"Then, you know you can't stay here."

"Yeah."

Again, the voice paused and changed its tone, losing the authority for one of wary concern. "Do you have a car?"

"Nope."

"Is someone coming to get you?"

"Nope."

Silence followed his words and Lovino began to fall asleep again.

"Do you want a ride?"

Lovino opened his eyes and sat up. He didn't know anyone who would offer him a ride, and most people wouldn't dare approach him. He locked gazes with two vivid green eyes, not bothering to hide his shock. The student president was standing next to the bench, keys in hand, and a scowl on his face as if he'd been stopped in mid-step by the sight of Lovino napping on the bench. Lovino glanced around and realized it was later than he thought. The sun was slipping under the horizon and it would be dark soon. It was unlikely his brother would be coming and he didn't want to walk home at night.

Lovino looked at the President again and frowned. There wasn't much to the President. He was a moody, temperamental man who got to presidential status out of his ability to get things done and done well. Lovino didn't know much about the President (Hell, he barely remembered the guy's name), but Lovino did know one thing: The President never did anything for anyone out of the goodness of his heart. The President was all hard work and effort, and Lovino simply didn't go out of his way to socialize with people like that, because it was in his nature to be lazy.

"Why?"

The President's eyes narrowed. "It's rude to inquire one's reasons for offering you a favor."

His lip curled in disgust. Lovino hated when people reminded him of his surly personality. It wasn't like he wasn't aware of how he came off to people; Lovino made sure he came off that way. He wasn't born just to please other people with polite words and kindness. "I don't know if you've heard, but people tend to associate 'rude' and 'Lovino' in the same sentence."

"I've heard." The President regarded him with mildly amused expression that made Lovino's skin crawl with irritation. "Are you going to give me an answer or shall I withdraw my offer?"

"Should I get in the car of some bastard I don't know?"

"Do you have much of a choice? Unless, of course, you want to brave the streets at night." Arthur's mouth turned up in a sarcastic grimace and the grip on his keys tightened. Now, who was being the rude one?

"It wouldn't be the first time," he practically growled. "I'm more suspicious of someone I don't know offering me a ride."

The President gave him an annoyed look. "Honestly? Fine, if you really need a bloody reason, Antonio called and begged me to give you a ride if you were still here. He said you'd be out on this bench and I suppose he was right. I thought he was being ridiculous to think you'd still be here so late, but I guess I was wrong."

At the mention of Antonio, he looked at the President with a changed view. If that idiot would go through the trouble of calling the President, then Lovino could go through the trouble of accepting the ride.

"Cheh." Lovino stood up and grabbed his bag, walking away a few steps. When the President didn't follow, he looked back and frowned. "Well, are you coming?"

"Of course," the blond said sharply and quickly walked past him. His back was stiff with tension and he walked fast. Faster than Lovino liked.

Annoyed with the fast pace and interrupted nap, Lovino moodily trailed behind the President. He reminded himself with the reassurance that his house wasn't far and he wouldn't have to sit in the car too long with the grumpy man. The President unlocked the car and Lovino threw his stuff in the back seat, taking the front one for himself. The blond didn't say anything to him and started the car without so much as glancing at him. That was fine with Lovino, he didn't feel up to conversation.

"Where do you live?"

"Turn right at the first major intersection. Take the second left and look for Daisy Lane. The house with the red door," Lovino listed off mechanically, having repeated it far too many times for Antonio.

They sat in silence, both focused on their own thoughts. Lovino began to notice the cars passing them with much irritation. "You drive like an old man."

"I do not."

"I'm so sorry to inform you, Mr. President, but you do. Old people are passing us." He pointed at a geezer going around them.

"My name is Arthur, wanker," grumbled the blond, and continued at the same speed.

Lovino threw himself back in his seat with a loud huff, not caring if it was childish of him. "Fine, drive like you're eighty. I didn't want to get home before dark at all."

"If you wanted to get home before dark, you should have walked home!"

"Cheh! That's too much trouble!"

"Lazy git!"

"Bossy asshole!"

Silence fell again with a sort of lightness now that they'd gotten their opinions out in the open. Again, they focused on their own worlds of passenger and driver. It was Arthur that broke the quiet.

"You better tell Antonio I dropped you off. He was quite worried about you."

"Damn idiot. He should be resting, not bothering himself with me. I can find my own way home, dammit."

"I'm sure, but it seems he does have right to worry. I mean, considering he is your..."

"My what?" Irritation made his chest tight. "Despite common consensus, I am not in a relationship with Antonio. He's a fucking idiot and not my type. Too stupid."

That made Arthur laugh. "At least you have good taste."

"Cheh." He turned his face to the window. "It's not much about taste. I've known him long enough to know he's an idiot. Kind enough, but still an idiot."

"How long do you think that idiot will be sick?" asked Arthur in good humor.

"Least a week. Knowing him, he'll milk the hell out of this cold."

"He told me, he had mono."

"Cheh. I don't know who he got it from, but if he's going with that, it'll be two weeks."

"Well, with that said," Arthur turned at the intersection, "Would you like me to drive you in the evenings?"

He sighed. He had no ride home with Antonio sick, but Lovino didn't want to bother with the President. That would be troublesome to deal with. "Nah, I'll figure something out."

"Will you really?"

"Probably not," Lovino said with the honesty that came with being too apathetic to lie.

"I don't usually get out from school until late. Are you fine with waiting till then?"

"Don't care."

"Then it's settled. If you don't mind the wait, I'll take you home until Antonio is well." Arthur glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Lovino pretended not to notice. "As student president, it's only natural to help a fellow student."

Lovino barely held back a scoff and looked out the window. The President thought too much of duty and responsibility, and Lovino could never understand why he worked himself up so much for other people. In this instance, Lovino supposed he should be thankful, because if Arthur didn't think it was his job to help other students, Lovino would be walking home in the dark (Or still asleep on that bench).

Arthur turned onto his street and Lovino reached behind his seat to pull his bag forward. They came to a stop in front of the only house with a bright red door and matching trim. He got out and shouldered his bag. Lovino went to shut the door, but hesitated. "Thanks...for the ride."

The blond smiled slightly. "You're welcome."

His nose scrunched up, the small bit of decorum leaving a bad taste in his mouth, and Lovino slammed the door shut. He hurried down his drive and to his porch. Lovino refused to glance back, knowing Arthur was still there and waiting.

_Why doesn't he just leave?_ Lovino gripped the doorknob and ran into the door when it failed to give way. Cursing under his breath, Lovino realized it was locked and he had no key. "Fuck me. Just fuck me in the ass. Dammit, Feliciano!"

"Is everything alright?" Arthur called from the car.

"None of your fucking business. Drive away already!" He flipped the doormat. No key. He checked the top of the doorway. No key. It finally came back to him after checking the mat again, Feliciano had given the key to his friend after losing the damn thing almost every time he took it. Lovino sighed and turned away from the door, counting quietly. He wasn't going to lose his temper. This was easy to fix.

Lovino turned sharply and kicked the door, cursing when it hurt his foot.

With the small outburst of anger out of his system, he took a deep breath and dug through his bag for something—anything that might help him. Lovino didn't carry a key, because he never locked the door and there was usually a key around somewhere if the door was locked (Not to mention, he'd most likely lose the key in his bag).

"Are you locked out?" Arthur asked from behind him.

"Ah!" Lovino jumped and dropped his bag, scattering the contents across the porch. He sent a glare at Arthur, who took a step back in response, and bent to pick up the innards of his bag. "Yes. My idiot brother locked the door and took the key with him."

Arthur muttered an apology and helped him gather his things. "Don't you have a key?"

"If I did, do you think I'd still be out here?" Lovino shoved the papers back into his bag. Lost pencils from the bottom of his bag rolled around by his feet, and Arthur collected them quickly. He picked up a stolen library book and a small rod of metal fell from the pages, ringing like a bell as it clattered on the ground. Lovino immediately recognized the hooked piece metal, but Arthur picked it up before he could. "Give me that."

"This?" Arthur looked at the metal in confusion and Lovino snatched it from his grip.

"You just picked up half my key." Lovino looked for the wrench and found it in Arthur's other hand.

"Aha!" He let out a laugh of relief and took the two tools. Lovino knelt in front of the doorknob and pushed the tension wrench into the lock. He followed with the pick and pushed down all the pins with the quickness that came only with having done it many times before. There was a click as he turn the lock and opened the door.

"Did you—You did!" Arthur pointed an accusing finger at him. "How—Why do you have something like that!"

Lovino nearly laughed at Arthur's expression and stood up, slipping the picking tools into his blazer pocket. The law-abiding President looked caught somewhere between disgust and amazement, and he rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep from actually laughing. "Goodnight, Mr. Student President." He took his things from Arthur's hands and walked inside, closing the door on the still sputtering blond. Lovino hung up his blazer and dropped his bag on the couch.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, pausing to get his pack of cigarettes from his bag, and dialed Antonio. "Pick up, dammit..."

"Hola..." The voice over the phone grated roughly and quickly degraded into coughs.

"Wow, you sound like shit." Lovino leaned against the kitchen counter and turned on the stove. "I thought you were faking being sick."

"Nope. Not this time." Antonio laughed, but almost immediately broke into a fit of coughing.

"So, mono?"

"Yep. I got it from that girl the other day."

"The one whose brother is a drug dealer?" Lovino lit a cigarette off the stove, and put on a pot of leftovers from the fridge.

"Si. It's too bad." Antonio faded off for a moment, but he could hear the coughing in the back round. "Did you get home alright?"

"What were you think asking some goody-two-shoes to drive me? The guy's too...you know. I don't like 'em like that. Everything he says makes me want to punch him in the throat." Lovino went back into the living room and took his homework from his bag, throwing it on the kitchen table.

"I know, but Gilbert won't get anywhere near you since you broke his nose and you hate Francis... He was the only other person that doesn't know you well enough to say no, and he has that whole thing about being a gentleman." Antonio sighed. "I hope you didn't give him too much trouble."

"Nah, we just talked shit about you." Lovino balanced the phone against his shoulder, taking a big drag from his cigarette, and started on his math. "So, what did you offer him for driving me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't fuck around, Tonio. Arthur doesn't do shit for nobody without getting something out of the deal." He took another drag, tapping off some ash. "What'd you do to bribe our noble president?"

"Said I'd stop selling cigarettes."

"You don't sell cigarettes. I do." Lovino frowned at the numbers.

"I know."

It took him a moment and he started laughing. Antonio joined in, but stopped after another bout of coughing. "Alright, you get well, bastard. I don't like selling your stock along with mine, too much work."

"Yes, boss."

"Adios, pendejo."

"Ciao. Oh, and Lovino?"

"Yeah?"

"Be nice to Mr. President."

He laughed. "I make no promises." Lovino hung up and set his phone down, shaking his head. He enjoyed his cigarette, momentarily ignoring his work, and stirred the pot of leftover tomato sauce. He filled another pot with water and set it to boil. Lovino was in surprisingly good spirits, considering Antonio was out sick and he was stuck with the student president driving him home in the evenings. He shrugged off the feeling and returned to finishing his homework.

The hissing of boiling water reached his ears and he opened the cabinet where they kept the pasta, dumping what was left into the pot. Lovino moved his work from the table to the counter from where he could occasionally stir the pot. His cigarette began to burn his fingers and Lovino snubbed it out against the stone counter, quickly lighting up another. The math work was almost too easy. He threw it back into his bag and took out his essay. They were suppose to do editing on their work. Lovino scoffed and took out a pen, marking the minor mistakes in grammar and sentences that could be improved. Again, he ignored his work, and strained the pasta. He glanced at the clock, putting out his cigarette, and turned on the fan to take out the smoke.

From the front, he heard a car pull up and the front door opened. "Lovino, I'm home!"

"About damn time. You couldn't have left the door unlocked for me, could you." He put some pasta onto a plate and drowned it in sauce. "You fucking locked me out. Again."

"I'm sorry," another voice said, and Lovino immediately felt his mood take a turn for the worse. "I told him to lock it, because of robbers and such."

Lovino turned and glared at the tall blond invading his kitchen. He looked to Feliciano standing beside the brute, and his brother slunk behind his shield of German. "The only person that is going to break into this place is me, and that only happens when someone tells my brother to lock the fucking door."

"It's not safe to leave it unlocked." Ludwig frowned, blue eyes icy with impertinence.

"This isn't your house. Don't go changing things that are none of your business."

The blond stared at him coldly. "It smells like cigarettes in here."

Feliciano immediately spoke up, "I don't smell anything."

"That's right," he said slowly, barely restraining himself from giving Ludwig a matching nose with his brother. "Neither do I."

And just like that, Feliciano went off on a roll about how good the food smelled and tugged Ludwig to the kitchen table. Lovino didn't like to see his brother hanging all over such an Aryan know-it-all, but he was better than some of the other assholes that Feliciano could make friends with. He took his plate and essay out into the living room and gave Feliciano the kitchen. Unlike his views for his brother, Lovino was already friends with "bad" people and felt no need to surround himself with "good" people when it was a little too late. In fact, the only reason he even allowed the damn German into his house was because he had good grades and God knew how badly Feliciano need that kick in the ass to do his work.

"Hey, brother, where's Antonio?" Feliciano bounced out of the kitchen.

"Out sick, remember? That's why I wanted you to take me home, idiot."

"Oh, that's right! Did you walk home?"

"No, I got a ride."

"That's good. I'm sure Gilbert won't mind an extra person in the car in the mornings."

Lovino bit his tongue to keep from saying anything. In truth, Gilbert would mind very much if there was an extra person in his car, especially if it was Lovino. Ever since he punched Gilbert for being his usual self, they hadn't exactly been on the best of terms. Which would be if fine if they didn't have any the same friends, but no. Almost all of Gilbert's friends were people Lovino had to interact with, and in turn indirectly interact with Gilbert.

With that thought in mind, Lovino ignored his brother's chatter and focused on his essay.

* * *

><p><strong>Tell me what ya'll think. I'm not far into the story, but I figured I should at least give ya'll a taste and see if I should continue before I get too far into it.<strong>

**-_Windy_**


	2. Chapter 2

The morning came early and Lovino almost didn't get up. With much cursing, he dragged himself out of bed and got ready for school; and with even more cursing, he went into Feliciano's room and got him up. When he was done waking his brother, Lovino went down stairs and made coffee for two. He warmed some muffins for breakfast, and coffee was done just about the time Feliciano bounced in.

"Good morning, Lovino!" His brother flashed a smile, which he returned with a frown.

"Feliciano," Lovino growled.

"Oh, right! No talking before your first cup of coffee." Feliciano munched on a muffin.

He drank his coffee and filled the cup again, handing it to his brother. Lovino finished tying his tie and tucked it under his v-neck sweater. He smoothed down the front of the sweater and noticed a black stain on the sleeve. "What is this?"

"Ah, um, a pen broke and...the sweater..."

"Dammit, Feliciano. I told you to be careful with our clothes! I don't want to buy another set of uniforms, because you cause things to explode near you!" He fingered the stain moodily. "I could have gotten the stain out if you told me."

"I forgot! I'm sorry!"

"Ugh, whatever."

A honk from outside alerted them and they hurried out the door. Gilbert's old beater was stopped by the curb and the motor plunked loudly. Gilbert wore an expression that said exactly what he thought about having Lovino in the car, and Ludwig's face wore the fading frustration of having that argument with Gilbert. He ignored them both and got in the back seat with Feliciano. The drive went relatively well - as well as it could go, although the quiet was nearly suffocating. Feliciano tried cheering everyone up with his usual smile and chatter, but it didn't have much effect against the coldness of morning. The uncomfortable air made him want a cigarette, and knowing he couldn't have one just made him even more irritated.

There was a profound sense of relief that came with finally arriving at school and they all got out of the car in a rush. Lovino turned to walk away first, but Gilbert said something to Ludwig.

"What the fuck did you say?"

Gilbert looked at him and his lips curled into that shit-eating grin that made Lovino punch him in the first place. "I said, I'm surprised you don't have mono too."

For a moment, it was quiet. Lovino was counting, Gilbert was waiting, Ludwig was watching, and Feliciano didn't know what the hell was going on. Then, there was a slight shift in the air and Lovino replied, "Your penis called. It wants its personality back."

It was on after that.

...

"What in the hell happened to you?"

"I fell," Lovino said unconvincingly and licked his split lip. The President had come out earlier than yesterday. Whether that had to do with him or not, Lovino didn't care.

"I don't care much for liars." Arthur scowled at him. "Who did that?"

"Gilbert."

"_Why?_"

He shrugged. "Talk shit, get hit."

"Aren't you the poet," Arthur said wryly and crossed his arms. "What did he say?"

"Nothing that hasn't been said before."

Arthur looked like he was doing his best not to snap at him, and Lovino silently found it amusing how he could almost see the blood vessel in the blond's forehead throbbing. "How did he turn out?"

"I broke his nose."

"_Again?_"

"Like I said -"

"I know, I know. But why?"

He shook his head. "Are you going to drive me home, or what?"

"We're not getting in the car until you tell me," Arthur said with stubbornness of someone who usually got what they wanted.

Lovino didn't care. "He suggested I'm screwing Antonio and I called him a dick. It could only go one way from there." He stood and shouldered his bag, walking in the direction of Arthur's car. "But don't you worry about it. We were technically off school grounds."

"That does not make it any better! Gilbert's always going to be an asshole." Arthur walked beside him, frowning deeply.

"And now he's an asshole with a broken nose, who knows better than to suggest I'm fucking Antonio." Lovino threw his bag into Arthur's car. "I mean, he's an idiot, but he's not stupid. Most dogs don't run up to a cat after it just scratched the fuck out of its nose."

"I've met a few dogs who do," Arthur grumbled, and they got into the car.

"Cheh." He stared out the window.

There was a bit of awkward silence, and Arthur fidgeted beside him. "So, why were you even near Gilbert? I know you two don't get along."

"I caught a ride with him this morning." His hand was itching to reach into his bag for a cigarette, but he calmed the urge by taping his fingers against his knee. "Bastard was asking for it."

"I don't doubt it, but must you indulge him?"

He let out a short laugh. "I'm not indulging him. He's indulging _me_. If he needs a fucking punch in the nose every now and again, I'll happily give it to him."

Arthur shook his head. "I ought to just drive you in the mornings as well, if you're going to get into fights."

"Do whatever the hell you want," Lovino mumbled, and gave Arthur a long side glance. He didn't know what kind of game the blond was trying to play. He didn't understand Arthur well enough to tell if it was just in his nature to make such offers, or if he was trying to trick him. Lovino knew Arthur wasn't a stupid man. If the blond was already on to Antonio, then he must suspect that Lovino dealt in the same underground market that went on in their school. Perhaps the president was trying to catch him in the act of selling or using contraband. If that was so, he had another thing coming. Lovino wasn't stupid either, and he knew to be careful around the more than capable president.

They chatted, keeping the conversation relatively light, and stayed away from anymore talk of Gilbert. Lovino was surprised to find Arthur didn't have too bad of a sense of humor when he wasn't being an uppity dick. They shared a couple laughs, quiet and somewhat awkward, and soon Lovino remembered what was waiting at home.

"Hey, can I ask you a favor?"

"What do you need?" Arthur glanced at him.

"Um, well, I need to go to the store." Lovino glared at himself in the side mirror. "We've been living off of leftovers for a week and I've been meaning to buy more food, but I keep forgetting and now that Antonio's sick...You know."

Arthur let out a small laugh. "Yes, it's no trouble. It's an understandable need." The blond drove them in silence and Lovino counted the money in his wallet. He would have enough for groceries and nothing more until he made some more money.

The store wasn't far and Arthur drove around, finally finding a parking spot in the far back. He, personally, wouldn't have chosen a spot so far back, but it was all the same to him. "You don't mind waiting, right? I won't be long."

"I'll go in with you." Without giving him a chance to protest, Arthur turned off the car and stepped out. Lovino quickly followed suit and they walk into the supermarket. He was uncomfortable with the blond trailing behind him, but Lovino went on as he normally did at the store. First, the pasta; then, the produce; and lastly, whatever there was left to get. As Lovino plucked things from the shelves, his brain added up the numbers and tracked the dwindling difference between the money in his wallet and the value of everything in his cart.

"What are you mumbling?" Arthur's voice broke his concentration and the numbers disappeared.

"What?" Lovino frowned.

"You're over there mumbling." The blond stared at him, one brow cocked up.

"I have thirty dollars and seventy-six cents. There's twenty-six dollars worth of shit in the basket with taxes. That leaves almost five dollars to play around with and buy something sweet." He scowled and moved on to the aisle with the candy and cookies. If he remembered correctly, Feliciano liked the chocolate caramels with the salt on top. Lovino frowned, threw it in the basket, and headed towards the check-out.

Arthur helped him carry bags, despite his protesting, and they walked in awkward silence. Lovino glanced up at the sky and realized clouds had moved in while they were in the store. The thought that it might rain crossed his mind, but he didn't bother voicing it; they were almost at the car anyway. Arthur opened up the trunk and they set the bags inside, slamming the trunk shut. That's when Lovino felt the first drop and by the time they got in the car, big drops were throwing themselves against the window.

"Bloody hell," Arthur mumbled and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Damn rain." He watched the window wipers kick on, sweeping away the splattered bodies of droplets. The motion was rhythmic and made him want to fall asleep, but Lovino forced his eyes to stay open.

By the time they arrived at his house, the rain had only gotten worse. He grabbed his school bag and Arthur helped him run all the groceries inside. His home was dark and the only thing that broke the silence was their panting and the far off crack of lightning. Lovino walked further into the dark house and flipped on lights. It seemed like Feliciano hadn't come home yet, and he set things into the fridge.

"You might as well stay for dinner. It'll give the rain time to stop."

"I don't want to impose."

Lovino scoffed and glared at Arthur. "It's rude to deny a favor," he mocked.

Arthur flushed out of embarrassment and slight anger. "Who is to say it's a favor?"

"You think I do this for everyone?" Lovino tried to keep himself from snapping too harshly at the President. Instead, he turned away and started on dinner. "At the very least, it's compensation for driving me."

The blond opened his mouth, but closed it and turned his face away. "Fine, but only because I want to wait for the rain to stop."

"I don't care about your reasons. Sit at the table while I get dinner started." He focused on cooking. It was easy to forget Arthur's presence when he was trying to decide what amounts of spices he should add. If he made a big pot of tomato sauce, he could eat it for at least a week and wouldn't have to cook. The thought of not cooking for a few days finalized the decision to get out his big pot.

"Is this your essay?"

He nearly dropped the pot, and looked at Arthur quickly. Lovino had left his report out on the table, but he hadn't expected Arthur to be a nosy ass. The blond was sitting with his legs crossed, staring at the pages of his report with a critical eye. Lovino set the pot heavily on the stove and dumped a few jars of sauce into it. He never had time to make fresh tomato sauce anymore and had to buy the jarred crap from the store; the ire of his life. "Maybe."

"It's utter crap."

"And?" English was far from his best subject. Not only was he a terrible speller, Lovino couldn't form a sentence to save his life. He always used the excuse that he wouldn't need to have perfect grammar in Italy (He could impress the ladies just by knowing English), but Lovino knew it would be a problem in his later years. It was just so hard to focus on black and white letters. Lovino hated reading ever since he was young, especially if it was in English.

"Give me a pen."

Lovino dug into his bag resting on a seat. He threw a red pen at Arthur and leaned against the counter. Arthur made long lines through entire sentences and wrote in the margins. By the time the blond was finished, his essay was just like a newspaper: black, white, and red all over. He frowned at all the marks. "Damn."

"You have 'believe' spelt three different ways." Arthur shook his head. "Was it that hard to decide on how to misspell it?"

"No. I figure I'd have a better chance of one of them being right if I spelled them all differently."

"Clever...If they weren't all wrong." Arthur made another correction.

"Enough with all the marks. I might actually start to think I'm bad at writing." An itch started in his fingers, urging him to reach into his bag again and pull out his cigarettes, but Arthur was literally right there. Lovino may have done a lot of stupid shit, but lighting up in front of the President would not be something he'd add to his list of stupid shit. That's something Gilbert or Antonio would do, and Lovino didn't fall into that category of stupid.

Arthur laughed at his sarcasm. "I'm afraid you wouldn't be wrong."

"Cheh." Lovino stirred the pot. "I know."

"Well, I've seen worse. I think your paper will be fine with a few minor corrections."

He took his paper from Arthur's hands and looked it over. Entire paragraphs had been crossed out and the margins were filled with comments, questions, and suggestions. "You call these minor corrections? You're practically having me rewrite my whole essay!"

"Maybe if you took the time to check over you spelling and sentence structures, you wouldn't have to rewrite the bloody thing." Arthur crossed his arms. "You'd be a fine writer if you could do that much."

Lovino wasn't going to say that more than half the essay was plagiarized off the internet. He flipped to the last page and found note at the bottom of his paper that read: "If you're going to plagiarise, at least chose a good paper to plagiarise." Lovino flushed and looked at Arthur. The President merely raised a brow.

"Figlio di putana," he grumbled and took out a notebook from his bag. Turning his back on Arthur, he began the long process of copying and rewriting his paper. With one hand he stirred the pot and the other wrote swiftly, occupied completely with his two tasks. Lovino added some spices to the sauce and rewrote an entire paragraph. Usually Lovino didn't put in quite so much thought to his writing, and even if he was multitasking at the moment, he was thinking more about his words than he usually did.

The sauce was nearly to his standards. He pushed aside his essay and started boiling water for pasta and toasting some bread to go with it.

"Let me look over what you have."

"It's not done," he said lamely. Lovino really didn't want to listen to Arthur criticize his work more.

"Just give it too me."

He grumbled, but threw his notebook on the table in front of Arthur. Lovino turned back to the stove and focused on his cooking. He didn't give a damn about the paper or Arthur. If he didn't have that single small bone of kindness in him, Lovino wouldn't have offered Arthur dinner in the first place.

His phone went off in his bag and Lovino dug for it. The ID read Antonio and he answered quickly. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Hey. Just wondering if you got home," Antonio said hazily.

"Yeah. I'm making dinner right now. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Don't you worry."

"I'm not worrying."

Antonio let out a hoarse laugh. "What are you making?"

"Pasta."

"Ah, I love your pasta... Is Feliciano there?"

"No, he's probably out with his damn friends."

"So, you're eating alone." Antonio clicked his tongue sadly.

Lovino glanced back at Arthur, wondering if he should mention the blond or not. Arthur was watching him curiously with unblinking green eyes. "No, the President is having dinner with me."

"What? I'm sorry. This mono seems to be affecting my hearing."

Turning back to the stove, he laughed harshly. "Haha. You're fucking hilarious."

"Are you serious? I didn't know you had a interest -"

"Don't jump the gun, fuckhead. I owe him for driving me. Might as well make him dinner."

"Well, I'm surprised Arthur even agreed. That hermit never goes out."

"It's raining. He's not stupid enough to drive in the rain, unlike _some_ people."

"Hey, hey. Don't be mean. I'm ill." Antonio did sound like shit. Perhaps he'd be a little nicer for the sake of being a decent human being. "Anyway, how has it been between you two?"

"You realize he's in the room with me. I'm not going to fucking gossip when he is literally sitting at my table about to have dinner with me. Are you trying to make me seem like a complete asshole?" he growled, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his voice. Lovino got down a couple of plates and filled some glasses with water. He thought about having a glass of wine, but, again, that probably wouldn't make the best impression on the president. "I mean, for fucksake, can you not be a bastard even when you're sick? Shouldn't you be sleeping, dammit?"

"Yeah." Lovino could hear the pout. "But I wanted to hear your voice."

"Idiot. Go to sleep. I'll text you later if you're still awake."

"As you wish, mi amigo. Adios."

"Ciao." Lovino ended the call and filled the plates with pasta.

"I see Antonio is well."

"I wouldn't say that. The bastard couldn't stay in bed even though it will make him better." Lovino set the plates at the table and threw some forks next to them.

"This looks wonderful, although I doubt I can eat this much," Arthur said politely, glancing at him slyly. "So, Antonio likes to gossip?"

"As much as any woman. Don't worry about it." Lovino started eating, successfully ending the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Arthur slowly twirl pasta around his fork and bring it to his mouth. The blond froze and stared at his food.

He paused in his own eating. "What? Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, not at all." Arthur cleared his throat and quickly took another bite. "It's good. Really good."

They ate in silence. Lovino frequently glanced at Arthur, checking his expression to find it blissful. He was a little surprised that the President was so happy with his cooking, and a little proud. Lovino knew he was a good cook; it was one of the only things he was good at. But it still brought him a small amount of joy to see a person's face light up with joy from his food, especially if it was someone like the stoic president. At the end of the meal, Arthur wiped the last smear of sauce up with his finger and licked it clean. Thoroughly filled, the President sat back with a satisfied sigh.

"That was great."

"Good. Everyone knows my cooking is great."

"Yes, but I didn't think..." Arthur shook his head. "Francis could take a few lessons from you. I've had his pasta and it's shite compared to this."

He scoffed. "It'd be even better if I didn't have to use that jarred shit from the store."

"I think it was still amazing." Arthur had the sated smile most wore after having his cooking. "Thank you for the meal."

Lovino just shrugged and placed their dishes in the sink. He began cleaning up and putting pots away. Arthur sat quietly, watching Lovino move around the kitchen. Lovino tried to ignore the staring, but he always did hate when people looked at him too much.

"About your essay," Arthur started. "What you have so far is good. Why couldn't you have written something like this in the first place?"

"I didn't feel like it." Lovino scrubbed the few dishes in the sink. Disapproval came off the President in waves, and Lovino held in a sigh.

"You should care. All your other grades are fine, expect your English grade. You're barely making a B."

"Have you been snooping into my grades, Mr. President?" Lovino glanced over his shoulder at Arthur, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. He was mostly annoyed with the President for reminding him of that irksome grade.

Arthur straightened his back stiffly and put on a haughty expression, but his cheeks gave away his embarrassment. "As Student President, it is my duty to care about other students and assist them if I am able."

"Cheh." He turned back to the dishes. Lovino glanced out the window and watched the rain beat itself across the glass. Quickly, he finished up the dishes and dried them, placing them in their places.

Arthur gestured to the window and stood. "I doubt the rain is going to stop anytime soon, but thank you for dinner."

"Yeah, you're welcome." Lovino walked Arthur to the door, despite his distaste for decorum.

With Arthur gone, Lovino ran back to the kitchen, where his bag sat, and dug frantically for the pack of cigarettes. They were at the very bottom and he almost cried out with joy once he found them. Lovino placed one in his lips and searched for a lighter. He found one in a kitchen drawer and clicked it open.

"Lovino, I'm home!"

"You fucking bastard!" He threw everything into his bag and waved his hands angrily.

Feliciano came into the kitchen, but stopped when he saw Lovino throwing a fit. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" He turned to face his brother. "Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry! Ludwig was helping me study and we lost track of the time." Feliciano smoothed his shirt down and looked away. His brothers shirt was wrinkled and the top was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a bright mark on his collar bone.

"Studying my ass," he grumbled and smacked Feliciano upside the head. "If you're going to fool around, at least take the time to hide the marks, you idiot."

His brother pouted and buttoned his shirt quickly. "Who was that coming out of our driveway?"

"The Student President."

"Wait - "

"No, no. Don't say a damn word. I'm not in the mood to talk about it. I'm going to go take a bath." Lovino grabbed his bag and went upstairs to the bathroom. He ran the water and lit a cigarette. Yep, that was just what he needed: a cigarette and a hot bath. He could forget everything in a cigarette. There was no need to think about his brother, the Student President, or any of his work for in and outside of school. The rhythmic inhale and exhale drew his thoughts back in and kept them close instead of letting the stems of thought wander too far away and drive him mad.


End file.
